


Loving Him

by bananacosmicgirl



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s05e05 Leap of Faith, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananacosmicgirl/pseuds/bananacosmicgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something about nearly dying that has him spilling his guts before he’s even had time to catch his breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t really ship Tony/Tim. Really, the only time I’ve thought about them together was during this episode. For some reason, the PTB decided to put two wonderful scenes between them in the same episode. This started out as a oneshot, and then grew into two parts - and after positive feedback on those, it became a seven-parter... and now I ship Tony/Tim. Such is life.

  


There’s something about nearly dying that has him spilling his guts before he’s even had time to catch his breath.

“I love you, McGee.”

Tim glances at him, chest still heaving, and Tony knows that Tim doesn’t believe him. It’s just as well. Really, those words should never have been spoken to begin with, but Tony dangled over the jaws of death – or at least over a cement floor seven stories down – just seconds ago, and his mind ran through all the things that he failed to tell the people around him. Telling Timothy McGee, the big, super intelligent teddy bear that he was, that Tony loved him, was at the top of that list, and as such the first thing that came out.

“I promise never to give you a hard time again,” Tony says, trying to catch his breath still, needing to say something else, something more, to avoid hearing the silence that follows his first proclamation.

“Yeah, right,” Tim pants, clearly not believing it.

Tony slumps against the wall and Tim’s shoulder, his heart slowing down with each passing second. It’s still pumping around adrenaline in his body, but he knows that it will pass soon and he’ll be left shaking. He’s been there before, it’s nothing new. It’s far from the first time he’s been near death, and it probably won’t be the last.

“You okay?” Tim asks, and Tony smiles goofily at the ceiling above them. It’s all grey cement, just like the ground below them, and it doesn’t look very deadly now – not like it did a few minutes ago. Of course, then the cement had been a bit farther away, and the only thing ready to catch him when he fell.

“I’m fine, Probie,” Tony says, and he uses his nickname for Tim because if he uses his first name, then Tim will be freaked out. It seems unnecessary, and Tony hopes he can continue to remember to call Tim ‘Probie’, ‘McGee’, or some other version of his last name. ‘McGeek’ is the most fitting one.

“You’re shaking,” Tim says.

“It happens,” Tony says, “when one comes down from an adrenaline rush after hanging off the side of a building.”

“Technically, it’s the inside of the building,” Tim says.

Tony rolls his eyes and gives Tim a very weak punch, because he deserves it. He’s always pointing out things that don’t need to be pointed out.

“We should probably get moving,” Tim says. “Gibbs will start wondering otherwise.”

“I’m sure him and Ziva have things under control,” Tony says. He wants to sit there, resting against Tim, for just a little longer.

He thinks of the stunt he pulled in the psychiatrist’s office earlier. Tim was so flustered when Tony had suggested they were together. It was both cute and saddening, to see the blush seep over Tim’s cheeks and hear him vehemently deny any romantic involvement with Tony. Still, it had been worth it. Even more, the events that had taken place just before that had been worth it – Tim’s body against his own as he tried to get his hands on the cell phone with the incriminating evidence of his fear of height.

Tony wonders if he can still tease Tim about that – saving Tony must have meant facing that fear.

He sighs, closing his eyes. He is getting tired, his eyelids drooping as the adrenaline leaves his body for sure. It has been a tiring few days. Weeks, even. He can’t remember when he last slept six consecutive hours.

Tim rouses him by moving to stand, the warm pillow Tony has been leaning against disappearing. He tries not to look disappointed.

Tim’s hand, which is smooth and rounder than Tony’s, is there to help him up. Tony grabs it, and feels the familiar feeling of his body being filled with a combination of spaghetti and lead all at once. It makes it very hard to walk without shaking.

He almost smiles when Tim hovers next to him, like an overprotective mother hen. Tim may be the younger of the two, but he’s just as protective of the team as Tony is. Tony likes to think that Tim is protective of _him_ too, but that’s probably just wishful thinking.

They reach the ground floor of the garage, where Gibbs and Ziva are waiting with Lt. Arnett’s traitorous wife in handcuffs. She’s glaring daggers at them, eyes dark with hatred. Tony stares back for a brief moment – she almost killed him. Falling to his death isn’t in the top three on his Worst Ways To Die list, but perhaps it should be moved up there. It is at least in the top five after almost trying it today.

He feels Gibbs’ gaze on him, traveling up and down to check for injuries. He seems satisfied, because he moves onto Tim.

Ziva approaches Tony.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

Tony shrugs and smiles. The façade comes easily. “It wasn’t that bad. In fact, it was a good view. You should try it sometime.”

“No, thanks,” she says, and turns away, satisfied with his goofed off answer.

She cares for him, he knows, but she rarely wants to see beyond the silly exterior he keeps up so that people will keep out. Since the mess with Jeanne, his heart is even more guarded. He’s not sure what he felt for the weapon dealer’s daughter, if it was love or a sense of camaraderie never felt before, but whatever it was, it was fake and it scarred him just as much as it must have scarred her.

“McGee, take DiNozzo home before he crashes and pukes all over the place,” Gibbs says suddenly, and Tony wakes from his thoughts.

“I’m not gonna puke, boss,” he says.

“I’d rather not chance it,” Gibbs says, a hint of amusement in his voice, but mostly, Tony knows it’s his way of showing concern. He also knows that Gibbs noticed that he didn’t deny that he would crash – they both know he will, because he has done it before. It’s better for him to be at home when his body runs out of adrenaline, sugar and caffeine completely.

Another agency car comes around to pick Lt. Arnett’s wife up, because they can’t transport her in Gibbs’ car. Gibbs and Ziva ride back to NCIS in that car, while Tim takes the keys to the car they came to the scene in. For once, Tony doesn’t argue with him about who’s driving – he knows he’ll be a danger to everyone if he tries to drive.

He feels the concerned looks Tim is shooting at him, but that doesn’t stop him from nodding off during the ride home.

He’s awoken by Tim’s hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. “Uh, we’re home.”

Tony looks up at the apartment complex where he lives. There are no lights on in his apartment, nothing to make it the least bit inviting. He thinks for a second about inviting McGee up, but decides against it.

“Thanks for the ride, Probie,” he says.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Tim asks.

“I usually am,” Tony says.

He unbuckles himself and opens that door. His body feels heavy; his limbs are hard to move. He finally manages to get out and stand up, but then he leans down again and gazes at Tim.

“Thanks,” he says, “for saving my life.”

Tim looks shocked at the thank you – he must think Tony’s been replaced with an alien, especially with both an ‘I love you’ and a ‘thanks’. Tony blames the sleepiness on his slip-ups.

“It—uh, it was nothing,” Tim says.

“You’re afraid of heights, McGee,” Tony says, “and I was hanging off a seven story drop. I doubt that counts as nothing.”

Tim shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “It was my fear or you. You won.”

Tony gives him his best grin, and it’s pretty real, he thinks. He knows Tim would do the same thing for Ziva, or Gibbs, or Abby – especially Abby – or probably anyone else at NCIS or—well, he’d do it for most people, Tony is sure. But it still feels good.

“Good for me,” Tony says.

He doesn’t say thank you again, because he’s already said it, and he knows Tim won’t forget that he did. They look at each other for a long moment, and there’s a second when all Tony wants is to pull Tim into a kiss. But he doesn’t, because he knows the consequences that would have – Tim isn’t stronger than him, but he probably would manage to deck Tony with a right hook at the moment. And that’s not even starting to mention the consequences it would have at work, although those are second rate to what the damage on Tony’s heart will be. Better not chance it.

The moment is lost, and Tim sighs.

“I—I should probably head back,” Tim says. “Abby’s probably still pretty upset. I should talk to her.”

Tony has managed to forget all about Abby and her job offer. Perhaps all the slaps to his head are finally making themselves known, he thinks. Or perhaps he simply doesn’t want to remember it. The latter seems more likely. He loves Abby, but he knows that she gets more appreciation in a week than Tony gets all year, so she really shouldn’t be the one to complain. It’s not as though she’s the only one who works hard.

“Yeah, you do that,” Tony says.

Tim nods uncertainly. After a moment’s hesitation, he says, “Uh—call me if you need anything.”

Tony smiles at him again, knowing he won’t. “I will.”

“Good,” Tim says. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Probie,” Tony says. “Tomorrow.”

He closes the door – it slams shut loudly – and waves at Tim as he drives off, the wave overdone and silly, like the women sometimes do in the movies.

He sighs, and starts the trek towards his home. He wonders how he should label his day – a good day, or a bad one? He’s had more bodily contact with Tim on this day than he’s had put together in the last two months, and he’s told Tim he loved him. Then again, Tim’s reaction to the first part was blushing beet red and profusely denying their gayness, and to the second part – nothing. Tim didn’t acknowledge Tony’s words at all, instead signing it off to Tony’s near death experience. It was brought on by that, of course, but that doesn’t mean Tony meant it any less.

He wonders if Tim will return to NCIS and give Abby one more reason to stay with them, to continue working there – he knows the two of them once dated, and it doesn’t seem as though that crush has ever quite gone out.

They’ll be good together, Tony thinks as he puts the key into the keyhole in his front door.

The apartment is quiet and dark, and Tony wonders if he will always come home to an empty apartment. He allows himself, for but a second, to imagine what it would be like to have Tim there after work, to live with him. There would be a desk with his typewriter, of course, and beside it would be his super advanced computer. There would be more books – Tony’s shelves are filled mostly with DVDs as is – and more general geekiness. Still, Tony thinks it would have been nice.

But then he banishes the thought from his mind, because it’s not going to happen. Tim will marry Abby, or some other nice girl, and he’ll be happy with her and he’ll have super smart little McBabies. Tony will stay the goofy playboy, and perhaps he’ll get to play the funny uncle if he’s lucky and still around when that time comes. He’ll pretend to be happy about it.

It is simply the cards life has dealt him.

 


	2. Tim

He screams Tim’s name, and Tim leans over the edge and sees Tony hanging by his fingers off the side of the garage building. Beneath him is nothing but death in the form of gray cement.

Tim freezes for a moment, knowing that he will have to get that close to the edge – and Tony’s hanging at least five stories up. Tim hates heights.

But then Tony screams again, and Tim realizes he’s already running. There is no question about what he has to do – he has to save Tony. He runs, heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline rushing around in his system in a way that lets him see nothing but Tony.

He grabs Tony’s hand just as Tony’s grip fails, and then there are long seconds of heavy pulling, and he doesn’t know where he gets the strength from, because Tony is heavy and Tim isn’t really strong enough to pull him up like this. But he is strong enough, and suddenly, they’re both sitting on the ground, panting heavily.

“I love you, McGee.”

Tim hopes that his gasp is masked by his attempts to regain his breath – Tony doesn’t seem to notice. What is he supposed to say? Tim has wished to hear those words for so long, and now—what can he possibly say? It’s just Tony being grateful for being saved, that’s all. He doesn’t mean anything by it.

“I promise never to give you a hard time again,” Tony says.

Tim is glad that Tony says something, especially something so easy to respond to. He scoffs, although he’s not sure it sounds like a scoff, because he’s still trying to get his breathing under control. “Yeah, right.”

He feels Tony relax against him, his body going limp and his head resting on Tim’s shoulder. He wonders for a second if Tony has lost consciousness or something – no one is as full of energy as Tony, and ‘limp’ is just not a word Tim can associate with him – but then he shifts slightly, and he knows Tony is awake, simply exhausted.

“You okay?” Tim asks quietly, not wanting to disturb Tony but unable to stop himself.

“I’m fine, Probie,” Tony says, a slight waver to his voice.

“You’re shaking,” Tim says, because he feels Tony’s body vibrate slightly against his own. It’s unsettling, and a definite sign that Tony isn’t fine. Tim worries, even though he knows that if Tony realizes just how much he worries, Tony would tease him even more than he already does.

“It happens,” Tony replies softly, “when one comes down from an adrenaline rush after hanging off the side of a building.”

Tim feels the need to keep the same light mood, to keep himself from worrying – and from thinking about words uttered mere minutes ago, and yet already etched into his memory forever.

“Technically, it’s the inside of the building,” he says.

That earns him a punch in the shoulder that holds none of Tony’s usual strength. Then Tony seems to snuggle against Tim’s shoulder, and Tim wonders what he’s done to deserve that – why couldn’t Tony do it at some point when he hadn’t just been rescued from certain death? At some point where it meant something other than that Tony was just exhausted?

He wants to stay there, and he wants to wrap his arms around Tony, but he doesn’t. He feels Tony shaking against him, and he sighs softly.

“We should probably get moving,” Tim says. “Gibbs will start wondering otherwise.”

Tony doesn’t seem worried. “I’m sure him and Ziva have things under control.”

They probably do. Tim hasn’t heard any shots or screams, and his cell phone is quiet. They would have heard something if there had still been trouble. Tim fails to see what a single woman, no matter how good her training, could do to give the team of Gibbs and Ziva grief.

They sit quietly, Tony leaning against Tim. He wonders what Tony would do if Tim placed his arm around Tony – probably jump up and back away slowly. Tim has little knowledge of what Tony thinks of gay relationships – Tony tongued the transvestite but that was wrong on so many levels that even Tim, who had been interested in both sexes since high school, would have had a problem with it. The guy was a murderer, and his victim had been their co-worker – and he’d been a transvestite only to keep his cover. Still, given Tony’s violent reaction to it, it didn’t bode well for Tim.

With another sigh, he gets up. He’s careful – Tony seems to have almost fallen asleep against him, and he doesn’t really want to wake him up. He knows he has to; they need to get back to Gibbs and then Tony needs to go home.

He holds out his hand to Tony, figuring that that can’t be too gay at least. Tony takes it without hesitation, and Tim likes the feeling of Tony’s strong hand in his.

Tony’s face is rather white, and Tim walks close to him, ready to blame it on the risk of Tony falling down at any second, should Tony point it out. He doesn’t, and they walk quietly to the ground floor where Gibbs and Ziva are waiting with Lt. Arnett’s wife.

Gibbs eyes Tony, and it’s a testament to the danger Tony was in, that Gibbs doesn’t rip them a new one about not returning until now. He merely motions for Tim to check out Arnett’s car for any further evidence. They don’t need any more than they already have, but the more evidence, the better.

He doesn’t find anything but her purse, and he hands it over to Gibbs, who nods.

“McGee, take DiNozzo home before he crashes and pukes all over the place,” Gibbs says, and Tim ignores the way his heart leaps at the thought of going to Tony’s place.

“I’m not gonna puke, boss,” Tony protests, but it’s a weak one.

“I’d rather not chance it,” Gibbs says dryly, and nods his head towards the car. Tim watches Tony and sees the hint of a smile on his lips at Gibbs’ words, and he wonders why.

Tim takes the keys to the car, and Tony doesn’t object to him driving, which must be a first. Tony always pulls the seniority card when it comes to driving. But then, within a few minutes of getting onto the road, Tony has fallen asleep, and Tim thinks it’s probably a good thing that Tony didn’t drive.

Tim tries not to watch Tony too much – he has traffic to keep track of, and it wouldn’t look good if he crashed the car – but he can’t help but steal glances. Tony looks hot even when he’s sleeping, which almost annoys Tim, because he’s fairly certain that he doesn’t look hot when he sleeps. Tony’s mouth is slightly open, and his long, dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.

Tim pulls up on the street where Tony lives, and he wishes that Tony lived father away. He stops the car and turns the engine off and he fiddles with the keys to the car without reason, just so that he won’t have to wake Tony up just yet.

Finally, he shakes Tony gently with a hand on his shoulder, and when Tony stirs, Tim says gently, “Uh, we’re home.”

Tony seems slightly disoriented, but upon seeing his apartment building, he appears to realize where he is.

Tim wonders what Tony’s apartment looks like. Tony has been to Tim’s place on several occasions, but Tim has never been to Tony’s. He wishes Tony would invite him.

Tony doesn’t; instead he says, “Thanks for the ride, Probie.”

Tony is still shaking, his face white. Tim can’t help but ask, “You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

There’s an attempt at the usual grin when Tony replies. “I usually am.”

Tony shuffles about, unbuckling himself with shaking fingers. Tim wonders if he should insist on taking Tony inside, but he figures such an insistence will be rewarded with merciless teasing or violence. Tony isn’t the kind of person someone like Tim takes care of. He’s not the kind of person anyone takes care of.

“Thanks,” Tony says suddenly, “for saving my life.”

Tim stares at him with wide eyes, knowing he must look like he’s in shock. He is – he can’t recall the last time Tony thanked him for anything.

“I—uh, it was nothing,” Tim says, because he doesn’t have any clue of what he’s supposed to say. The words are already running though his mind, playing right after those four words Tony said earlier, and they repeat themselves over and over again.

“You’re afraid of heights, McGee,” Tony says, “and I was hanging off a seven story drop. I doubt that counts as nothing.”

Tim doesn’t want to think about how far up it was – he did save Tony, but he still doesn’t like heights. He shrugs and tries to make his words sound nonchalant.

“It was my fear or you. You won.”

This has Tony grinning at him. Tim wonders if Tony really thought that Tony wouldn’t win every single time.

“Good for me,” Tony says.

They look at each other, eyes meeting. Tony has beautiful eyes – they shift in greens and blues, and they sparkle, even when he’s as tired as he is now. All of Tony is beautiful, really.

Tim wonders what Tony would do if Tim leaned over and kissed him right now. He would probably hit him, and then he’d go to Gibbs and ask him to fire Tim, because though gays – or bisexuals – are allowed at NCIS, they probably aren’t all that welcome. Still, Tim wishes he had the guts. To feel Tony’s lips against his own, just this once – it might be worth it.

But Tony looks away, and Tim sighs.

“I—I should probably head back,” Tim says, trying to fill the silence. “Abby’s probably still pretty upset. I should talk to her.”

It’s not a lie – Abby was quite upset by everyone thinking she would quit. Tim was upset by the idea too. He loves Abby and absolutely doesn’t want her anywhere but at NCIS. He needs to talk to her, make sure she knows she’s still loved and very wanted.

He wonders what it would be like to say the same things to Tony.

“Yeah, you do that,” Tony says, eyes on something in the far distance, rather than looking at Tim.

Tim nods. “Uh—call me if you need anything.”

He wants to say more, to make it clear that anything means anything, but he doesn’t because he doesn’t think Tony would appreciate being babied. Tony can take care of himself.

Still, Tony smiles at him. “I will.”

Tim doesn’t have any high hopes for Tony calling, but at least he wasn’t shot down. “Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, Probie. Tomorrow.”

He sounds tired, but Tim doesn’t get a chance to say anything more. Tony slams the door shut and walks away, towards his apartment.

Tim stares after him, eyes lingering on Tony’s shapely ass, and he swallows. He needs to get a grip on himself, lest he suddenly start saying things he really shouldn’t to Tony.

Perhaps he ought to talk about it with Abby. He knows that she won’t judge him – she’ll probably even be thrilled. She’s not like anyone else he knows – which is what attracted him to begin with – and she’s accepting of everyone. She might even give him tips on how to woo Tony, even though Tim will tell her that there will be no wooing.

Tony has disappeared into the building, and Tim starts the car. He wonders if Tony will call some girl – Tim’s certain he’s got a few in his phone book just for comfort sex, or something – and he tries not to feel jealous of the imaginary woman he thinks up. He knows that one day, Tony will find that woman, that person who fits him and makes him happy. Tim hopes he’s no longer around when that happens; he doesn’t know if he will be able to stand it.

He drives off, with a sigh, comforting himself with the knowledge that at least Tony is safe, and alive, and he is that way because of Tim.

Anything else, Tim will simply have to learn to live with.

 


	3. Abby

“You look like a kicked puppy, McGee.”

Abby points this out to him as they sit in her kitchen. He holds a mug of hot chocolate in his hands; he looked like he needed it.

“I’m not here to talk about me,” Tim says.

“We’ve talked about me already,” Abby says. “We’ve talked a whole lot about me. In fact, people seem to have been talking about me without me present. So I think that’s enough me-talk. Let’s do you-talk. Did something happen?”

Tim sighs, apparently at a loss for words. Abby is used to this – McGee isn’t all that great with words. Computers? Yes, fantastic. People? Not so much. His own feelings? Never.

“Come on, Tim,” Abby says coaxingly.

It’s late night. The sky outside is dark; it’s nearing midnight. McGee arrived half an hour ago, looking lost and cute, even more so than usual. Abby can never say no to him, and when he asked to come inside, she held the door open and then went to prepare the hot chocolate.

Now she sits in front of him and watches him expectantly.

“Tony told me he loved me.”

He hasn’t said anything about his feelings for Tony before, although Abby has suspected. She squeals.

“That’s wonderful!”

“He did it after almost dropping off a seven story building,” Tim continues, and he sounds distinctly unhappy.

“He did _what_?” Abby asks.

“Arnett almost ran him over,” Tim says. “He had to jump over the edge to avoid getting hit, and I—uh—saved him.”

“Wow, I really should go with you into the field sometimes,” Abby says. “But he’s okay?”

Tim nods.

“So you don’t think it’s real?” Abby asks. “The love you part? Come on, haven’t I taught you better than that? Why wouldn’t it be real?”

“Why would it be?” Tim shoots back, morosely.

“Because it’s the first thing he says after being rescued!” Abby says. “The _first thing_. He says what was on his mind when he was hanging there, McGee. And if the first thing he thinks of is that he loves you, don’t you think that’s a pretty great sign?”

“You know, don’t you?” Tim sighs.

“That you’re crushing on Tony big time?” Abby asks. “Well, yeah. I mean, you haven’t actually said anything, but the way you look at him and talk to him—”

Tim drops his head into his hands. “Oh god, does everyone know?”

“I really doubt it,” Abby says, and it’s true. “Ziva isn’t good with emotions or reading people, so I don’t think she’s figured it out. Ducky—well, Ducky knows everything, so he might. Palmer, no – he wouldn’t know a clue if it jumped up and bit him in the ass, at least not about this kind of thing. And Gibbs—I don’t think so. Or he does, and he doesn’t care. Could be either one.”

“Abby, Gibbs is a marine,” Tim says miserably. “He’d—I don’t know what he’d do if he found out.” He sighs, turns resolute. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll never find out, because there’s nothing to find out.”

“Oh, come on,” Abby says. “You can’t tell me something like this and then not do anything about it. It’s way too good for that.”

She has seen the looks Tim sometimes gives Tony, when he’s not watching. She has seen the enthralled look on McGee’s face when Tony speaks, and the exasperated smiles when they tease each other. Moreover, she has heard and seen the same things in Tony.

“Abby, you’re not playing matchmaker,” Tim says, frowning at her, because he knows that she would love to do so given the chance.

Abby pouts. She knows that Tim thinks she’s very cute, and he’s hardly immune to her, but in this case, his fear of Tony finding out that Tim has feelings that are beyond those of an admiring colleague apparently wins out.

Abby takes his mug, which is now empty, and places it amongst the rest of the dishes.

“And if Tony comes to me and tells me that he’s madly in love with you?” Abby asks. She knows that the likelihood is very slim, even though she and Tony are very close. Tony hides things from her sometimes, like he did when he went undercover for Director Shepard. It is possible that he’s hiding feelings as well – because whether or not McGee believes her, she knows that it’s true that if it was the first thing out of Tony’s mouth when he was saved, then it’s important.

“He won’t, don’t worry,” Tim says. He stands, on his way out now, because it’s almost midnight and he has work tomorrow.

Abby hugs him. When they pull apart, Tim looks at her warily.

“Don’t go talking to Tony about this, okay? Promise?”

Abby purses her mouth, rather unhappily, because she’s fairly certain that she could make both boys happy in very little time. Perhaps she ought to lock the two of them in the elevator until they’ve solved their issues.

“Abby,” McGee says again. “Promise.”

She gives a put-upon sigh, and crosses her fingers behind her back. “Fine. I promise.”

When the goodnights have been exchanged, Tim leaves, lumbering into the waiting darkness outside, and Abby feels a little sad that she couldn’t manage to make him happier.

The door has only barely had time to close before Abby is gathering up her own things – she puts on her shoes, takes her jacket, grabs her purse – and then she too is out the door. She has made impromptu visits to Tony late at night before; he won’t be suspicious. And besides, Tim’s admission isn’t the only thing that has her running into the night – she wants to make sure Tony is all right.

When Tony opens the door, she realizes she woke him.

“Abby?” he asks, giving her a bleary look. “Did something happen?”

“You almost died – _again_ ,” Abby says, poking an accusing finger into his chest.

“It kinda comes with the job,” Tony says, and yawns. “Are you coming inside?”

“Yes,” Abby says.

Tony’s apartment isn’t all that big, and it’s sparsely furnished. DVD:s fill the bookshelves in the living room, and something is playing on the TV.

“Were you sleeping on the couch again?” Abby asks, seeing the messy blanket laying there, the couch pillows in slight disarray.

Tony shrugs his answer and she knows he did. “Was there something you wanted, Abs?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Abby says, although it’s not quite true. She’s trying to figure out how to steer the conversation onto Tim. “What happened?”

“Crazy bitch tried to run me over,” Tony says tiredly, slumping down on the couch and pulling one of the blankets around him. “I had nowhere to go but over the edge.”

“And McGee saved you?”

“Been talking to Probie, Abs?” Tony asks.

“He came by,” Abby says, and she hopes her voice is dismissive.

Tony nods. “Well, then, yeah—Probie saved me. Took him long enough, too. Should take him out to run sometimes – he needs it.”

“Be nice, that’s your savior you’re talking about,” Abby says, but she’s grinning, because she too knows that McGee is by far the least fit member of Gibbs’ team.

“Doesn’t make it less true,” Tony says, and for a moment, she can see the true Tony smile.

“And then what happened?”

Tony shrugs again and Abby knows that if she hadn’t already found out about what had been said after the saving business was done, she’d never have found out about it from Tony.

“Nothing,” Tony says. “Gibbs ordered McGee to take me home, he did, and I’ve been home since.”

“Why are you always alone after almost dying?” Abby asks, sitting down next to him on the couch.

Tony shrugs, giving a half-smile that isn’t really a smile at all, but more of a grimace. “Why not?”

“Because someone obviously needs to make sure that you get some sleep—”

“Hey, I was sleeping—”

“In your _bed_ ,” Abby says pointedly.

“Well, there’s that,” Tony says. “I just can’t seem to fall asleep in bed anymore.”

“Why not?” Abby asks, because she worries about him. She knows that since the ordeal with Jeanne, he hasn’t cared about himself as much. It’s like he’s—lost, somehow.

He looks at her warily. “I really must be tired. Normally I wouldn’t even have said this much.”

“Don’t say that like it’s a good thing,” Abby says. “It’s not. So why aren’t you sleeping right?”

Tony shrugs, and gives her a look that’s almost apologetic. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never been a big sleeper, but—I guess the last year took its toll.”

He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that it’s rarely messed up at work. It’s not the first time she sees him in this kind of state – she has been here before, late at night, and there have been several occasions at work when Gibbs has worked his team so hard they have nearly fallen asleep standing. She knows; the only reason she doesn’t fall asleep at NCIS sometimes, is her Caf-Pow.

She leans back against the couch, and takes Tony’s arm and pulls him along with her. He doesn’t follow at first, but at her insistent tug, he leans into her embrace and lets her wrap her arms around him. She isn’t usually on the giving side of this type of comfort, even though she sees herself as a giving person – in the company of Tony and Gibbs, she’s always the little one. It feels nice to be on ‘the other side’, she thinks.

“You know, there are people who’ll listen if you just talk to them about stuff,” she says softly.

He starts to sit up, and she tightens her grip on him, holding him down. She knows that if he really wants to, he can sit up, but it doesn’t seem like he does, because he relaxes again.

“I don’t—”

“Me, for starters,” Abby says, interrupting before he can say that he doesn’t need to talk to anyone, or that no one would be interested in listening. “And Ducky. And Gibbs, really.”

“I don’t want Gibbs knowing,” Tony mutters. “I’m his senior field agent, I’m not supposed to have problems.”

Abby wants to slap him for that. “Everyone has problems. Or did you forget Gibbs’ past? Or Ziva’s, for that matter?”

“They have the deaths of loved ones as problems,” Tony says. “People they loved being murdered. Me, I have a screwed up undercover relationship where the girl now happens to hate me. It doesn’t qualify.”

“What about nearly getting blown up?” Abby asks. “Or for that matter dropping off the side of a building after some crazy chick tries to run you over?”

Tony doesn’t reply, but sighs against her. She runs a hand through his hair.

“McGee would listen too, you know,” she says. “And he doesn’t have death and murders of loved ones as history.”

Tony is silent for a long time, and she starts to wonder if he’s fallen asleep. She wouldn’t mind – he needs it, and she’s warm and rather comfortable here. Tony is like her big brother, and it’s nice to know that she can be there for him, even just a little bit.

“McGee wouldn’t be interested.”

The words are quiet, accompanied by a shrug to make them seem unimportant. But Abby knows, because it took far too long for Tony to respond, that it isn’t shrugged off because it’s unimportant – it’s shrugged off because it is important. By making it seem as though Tony doesn’t care about whether or not McGee is interested, he guards himself against possible let-downs.

There are some things Abby simply knows, and this is one of those things.

She drops a kiss onto Tony’s hair. His breathing is starting to even out into sleep, and she smiles.

“Yeah,” she says, very softly. “He would be.”

 


	4. Tim

It’s not the first time Tim stops by at a nearby coffee shop to purchase Tony’s favorite black coffee and his own favorite latte. It is, however, the first time he doesn’t also buy Gibbs and Ziva coffees as well. Even more unusual is that he doesn’t head towards NCIS headquarters at all, but towards Tony’s apartment instead, at six thirty in the morning – or really, any time of the day at all.

But he has to check on him. He has barely gotten any rest all night; as soon as he closes his eyes, he sees Tony hanging off the garage wall again, screaming his name. In his nightmares, which have plagued him through every minute of what little sleep he did get, he doesn’t get to Tony in time, and Tony falls to his death, into complete darkness, waking a sweating Tim, his heart racing.

He sits outside Tony’s building for a few minutes, the car filling with the scent of coffee. He tries to get himself calm, to convince himself that this is something colleagues do for each other, even though Tim has never done it for any of his team mates before. He’s certain neither Ziva nor Gibbs would appreciate it. He has no idea how Tony will react.

His heart races as he heads up to the front door. He walks inside, heart pounding, and after climbing the stairs to the second floor, he finds Tony’s door.

When he finally rings the doorbell, he’s fairly certain it’s nearing seven in the morning. Tony should be leaving very soon.

The door opens, and a dry-mouthed Tim is faced with Tony, whose hair is in disarray and who’s standing there in pants and no shirt.

“Probie,” he says, frowning slightly.

“I just—uh, came by to check on you,” Tim says, hating the fact that he can’t speak without hesitating.

Tony cocks his head to the side, and Tim worries the inside of his lip, trying not to let his eyes roam over the lovely planes of Tony’s body.

“Since you brought coffee, you can come inside,” Tony says. “Abby’s already left though.”

“Abby was here?” Tim squeaks. His mind races through a million possibilities of what Abby could have said to Tony. None of them are good, and several of them might cost Tim his job.

Then he calms, because he trusts Abby implicitly, and he knows she won’t do anything to risk his job – even if it means passing up the chance of playing matchmaker, which she seems very keen on in this particular instance.

“Yep,” Tony says, turning and heading back into the apartment. “She came by to ‘make sure I was okay’. Apparently, you’d talked to her.”

“I—uh,” says Tim, damning his own ineloquence.

“Relax, Probie,” Tony says, grabbing a shirt and starting to button it. Tim has the sudden urge to button it for him, to stand close enough to smell the aftershave and kiss Tony lightly, just like that. “She’d’ve found out eventually anyway. And then she’d’ve been all mad because I didn’t tell her immediately. Now, coffee?”

“Uh, yeah, here,” Tim says, shaking himself from the hypnotizing thing that is Tony’s hands, his fingers having made quick work of the buttons of his shirt. He hands the coffee to Tony, and their fingers touch for just a moment as Tony grabs the cup. Tim swears he can feel electricity pass between them, but he’s equally certain that he’s the only one who can feel it.

“You okay there, Probster?” asks Tony, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Tim replies. “Yeah. Just, uh, tired—didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Tony looks at him as though he wants to ask, but he doesn’t. Tim thinks it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t ask; if he did, then Tim would have to give an explanation as to why he didn’t sleep much, which would eventually lead to the revelation of the nightmares he had, and why. Although Tim is fairly certain he could blame the why on Tony being a team mate – after all, he’d probably have some nightmares if it had been Ziva, hanging over the edge. Or Gibbs, but that’s too weird to contemplate.

“So, are you going to be my cab for today too?” Tony asks, waking him again from his thoughts.

Tony’s hair has somehow turned into the immaculate hairdo he usually sports at work, and he has his shoes on and is ready to go.

“You want to ride with me to work?” Tim asks, hating the squeaky sound of his voice.

Tony shrugs. “You’re here. Might as well.”

“Okay,” Tim says. “Sure.”

“As long as you don’t fall asleep at the wheel,” Tony says. “I don’t feel like being in a crash just because you can’t keep your eyes open.”

“I’m a good driver.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I’m better than Ziva and Gibbs,” Tim says defiantly, hands on his hips before he has time to stop himself, and then he feels silly and drops them to his sides. Tony locks the door behind them.

“Everyone drives better than Ziva, so you can’t compare yourself with her,” Tony says. “And Gibbs drives well when he wants to.”

“Which is never,” Tim says, daring to say it only because he’s certain Gibbs is not in the near vicinity. Of course, their boss has an uncanny ability to show up at inopportune moments even when he’s not supposed to be anywhere nearby.

Tony grins and shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

They get into the car and Tim has a flashback to the night before, when Tony slept in the seat beside him. He likes the image of sleeping Tony, especially compared to the horrifying images of him hanging over the ledge, screaming Tim’s name.

His mind replays the multitude of times when Tony’s life has been in danger – getting kidnapped by a murderer, getting the Plague, being cuffed to a murderer, getting shot at, nearly getting blown up—the list goes on and on. Tim realizes that it’s a part of their jobs, but Tony’s life still seems to hang in the balance more often than any of the other’s.

It makes him want to reach out and take Tony’s hand and not let go.

He doesn’t, for obvious reasons, but it’s a strong, primal urge to protect that which he loves.

Tony’s four words from the previous day echo through his mind.

The car ride is surprisingly silent. Tony usually never shuts up about movies recently watched and girls recently bedded, but today he seems a million miles away, watching the roads pass them by through the side window. Tim steals glances, taking in the way the light plays over Tony’s hair and the sharpness of his features. Then he forces himself to be a good driver and keep his eyes on the road again.

He parks in the NCIS garage, and nudges Tony, who has yet to react to the fact that they’ve arrived at their destination. Tony turns, and for a moment, Tim sees tiredness and unhappiness in Tony’s blue eyes. It takes him by surprise, and he lets his hand rest on Tony’s shoulder for a bit longer than necessary.

Then in an instant, the look in Tony’s eyes is gone, replaced by a fleeting grin.

“Ready for a day of hard labor, McProbie?” Tony asks, getting out of the car.

Tim watches him, and thinks that there is something off about Tony’s energy. It’s like a parody of Tony’s real energy; it’s like Tony is trying too hard.

He decides to play along, because he knows Tony won’t share whatever it is he is troubled by.

“How can you be excited so early in the morning?” he asks.

“Caffeine, my dear friend, caffeine,” Tony says with a look of perfect seriousness.

Tim has to roll his eyes and smile to himself. Even when faked, Tony’s energy is infectious.

“Of course, that might be too strong for you,” Tony says. “Lemonade more your kind of thing? Hot chocolate for the kids?”

“I’m no kid,” Tim says, falling easily into the teasing.

“Yeah, you are, Probster,” Tony says, heading into the elevator. “Or maybe a puppy—”

They get to the bullpen, where Ziva is already sitting by her computer. She glances at them, notes that they arrive together, and a part of Tim wishes that there could be a naughtier reason as to why that is. The thought produces images at once, which makes his pants suddenly uncomfortable.

When he has forced the images away, he realizes Abby is approaching their small gathering at Ziva’s desk. She’s carrying a bouquet of black roses, her favorite, and asks where Gibbs is.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Tim says truthfully – he hasn’t seen Gibbs since they walked in. Of course, considering the images he’s just banned from his mind, a pink elephant could have walked through the room and he’d have failed to notice.

“Is that what you get for turning down the job offer?” Ziva asks, nodding towards the flowers.

There’s that smile on Abby’s lips that Tim has always loved – the smile that isn’t hyper and energetic like an energizer bunny, but simply genuinely happy and content.

“No,” she says. “For solving the case.”

Tony sputters, “What? I believe those are for me then, because I solved the case.”

Tim moves to stand beside Abby. For once, it’s not so much to be close to her, as it is so that he can watch Tony. He knows that teasing will come, because they always tease Tony, and it’s an excuse to watch Tony. Any excuse for being allowed to watch him is fine by Tim these days.

“But Abby ran the photo recognition that id’d Lt. Arnett,” he says, smiling slightly at Tony, who glares back. Even in love, Tim doesn’t mind – Tony has made his life hell enough time with annoying pranks and superglue, and Tim likes to give back.

“I risked my life hanging off a wall,” Tony says, and that sends Tim straight back to the garage, and he’s unable to respond, his breath hitching. Beside him, he sees Abby glancing up at him, knowing smile on her lips. He wonders what she’s told Tony. By their exchange so far, it seems she has said nothing.

They continue for another minute, their back-and-forth playful when Tim finds his voice again, pushing the memories of Tony near death out of his head. He watches Tony’s face fall as they keep going, and he feels instantly bad, even though Tony has done this kind of thing, and many more that are far worse, to Tim before – and he is more than likely to do stuff again.

“Give it up, Tony,” he says finally, quite gently, unable to laugh at Tony’s crestfallen expression. He has a feeling this one is hurting Tony for real – he did hang off a wall, risking his life, and he did suggest the search. But like Ziva says, Abby will always be Gibbs’ favorite, no matter what his agents do.

“He still loves me,” Abby says to her flowers, still smiling softly.

Then Abby tells Tony that she still loves him, and a flash of jealousy passes through Tim, like hot lighting. He wants to tell Tony the same thing, wants to hear Tony say those three words again. He can feel the words bubbling in his throat, and he focuses on his computer, pressing his lips together hard – he will not make an ass of himself by professing his undying love to Tony in the middle of the bullpen. The idea is ridiculous.

But he watches Tony as he stands with the black rose in his hands, eyes following Abby as she retreats to her lab. For a short moment, his gaze wanders to Tim, and their eyes meet. Tim thinks he can see something there, in those beautifully expressive eyes, but then it’s gone, locked away before Tim can decipher it.

 


	5. Tony

Tony wonders if Abby and Tim have made up some sort of schedule; Tim arrives less than ten minutes after she’s left. Tony’s a bit surprised that they failed to run into each other – but happy that they didn’t, because then it will be a while longer before Abby shares with Tim what a mess Tony was the night before.

He remembers Abby’s words about talking to someone – talking to Tim – about stuff, and he wonders as he sips his coffee in the car on the way to work, glancing over at Tim who’s driving, if Tim would listen or simply laugh Tony’s problems off. Tim has never had problems like the things Ziva and Gibbs have faced, but he might still think that Tony’s thoughts are silly, the thoughts of a playboy.

The ride to work is silent, which is unusual for him. He can’t find it in himself to care. He nearly died last night – again – and it still has him rattled. It happened so fast, not like the Plauge which was a dragged out process of getting continuously worse, having to gasp for every breath, and it wasn’t like seeing his car get blown up, where he wasn’t ever in any danger, since he wasn’t in the car. This time, for stretched out seconds, his life depended on the strength of his fingers and then, on the strength and speed of Tim.

He stays in the car when it stops, suppressing a shudder at the smells and the feeling of the garage; it’s the same as the garage the day before.

Tim places a hand on his shoulder, warm and safe, apparently thinking Tony’s unaware of where they are. He meets Tim’s gaze before he has had time to guard himself, and Tim looks back, startled. When Tim frowns, Tony realizes he must look like hell, and he forces himself to be cheerful, a grin pushed onto his face.

“Ready for a day of hard labor, McProbie?” he asks as he gets out of the car.

Tim’s frown disappears in a yawn. “How can you be excited so early in the morning?”

Tony wonders what Tim will say if Tony says he’s not, that it’s all just a façade, and that today, all he really wanted was to stay in bed.

“Caffeine, my dear friend,” he says instead. “Caffeine.”

They head upstairs, the teasing continuing. Getting out of the elevator, they find the bullpen in the same state of early morning semi-business that it usually is. Ziva is already by her desk, writing away at what is likely to be the report of the previous day’s activities. Gibbs is nowhere in sight, although Tony doesn’t doubt that he’s in the building. It is, after all, well past seven in the morning.

When Abby walks into the bullpen carrying a large bouquet of flowers, Tony’s heart sinks. Black roses – there is no doubt who has bought them for Abby.

“Where’s Gibbs?” she asks, confirming Tony’s suspicion.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Tim says unhelpfully. Tony wonders when he’s started to think that stammering is cute.

“Is that what you get for turning down the job offer?” Ziva asks.

Abby gives a small shake of her head. “No. For solving the case.”

Tony expects this, but a protest still escapes him before he has the presence of mind to reign it in. “What? I believe those are for me then, because I solved the case.”

He knows he’s in for it now – those words are like opening a can of worms. Ziva and Tim will both think he needs to be taken down a few notches.

“But Abby ran the photo recognition that id’d Lt. Arnett,” Tim says, moving to stand beside Abby, to show even more clearly that he is on her side, not Tony’s. Just like Gibbs, Tim will always choose Abby.

“I risked my life hanging off a wall,” Tony says, wondering all the while why he’s even trying.

Ziva chimes in, “She discovered the drug interaction that made Arnett suicidal.”

“I suggested we run the wife’s DNA,” he says, trying his best to hide his dejection. He has contributed to this case, and yet as usual, Abby is the only one who gets appreciation. He forces his face into a mask that shows no reaction to the rejection he feels, from Gibbs and from Abby, but perhaps mostly from Tim, who he thinks should be on his side, even though Tony has never given him a reason to be.

“Against the national database of felons,” Tim says. “Dead end. Abby went the extra step and compared it to the Interpol database.”

“I don’t believe this,” Tony says, truthfully.

“Give it up, Tony,” Tim says, turning away and heading towards his desk.

“She’ll always be the favorite, Tony,” Ziva adds, as though she has to twist the knife another few degrees through his heart.

“He still loves me,” Abby says, and Tony wants to snap at her that, of course Gibbs loves you, he’s always loved you. He doesn’t say anything, because it would serve no purpose. It’s not her fault everyone loves her. Abby spent the night with him, holding him and being nice, and paying her back by snapping at her will do no good. She does deserve the flowers – it’s just that sometimes, Tony wants appreciation too. Head slaps aren’t really a good way to show approval.

Abby comes up to stand right in front of Tony. She picks out one of the black roses in the bunch and holds it out.

“I still love you,” she says.

Tony’s hand shakes just a little bit when he takes the flower from her. He doesn’t say thank you, but he’s fairly certain she can see it in his eyes.

“Back to work,” she says then, as she turns on her heel and heads out of the bullpen.

Tony stares after her swishing pigtails, and he wishes he could have the same spring in his step that she does. He tries to remember how long ago it was that he was really, genuinely happy.

Tim looks up at him just then, and their gazes meet. There’s that deer-caught-in-headlights look that Tim often sports, but it turns into a gentle smile after a moment. Tony imagines admiration and appreciation in Tim’s bright eyes.

It makes Tony want to go over and kiss Tim, right then and there. It would surely cost him his job, but a part of him thinks that it might be worth it.

Then again, he’s probably just imagining things.

He heads back to his desk, knowing that he has some filing to do before the case can be claimed to be closed. He starts to write, but finds that his thoughts take him far, far away from the report he’s supposed to be writing – he might even go so far as to call it a daydream. He thinks of Tim, and imagines himself and Tim in a fairytale. Because of the events of the day before, he finds himself in the role of damsel in distress, which is not a role he takes on willingly, but Tim does need to rescue him, and he succeeds.

He imagines them living together, styles meshing and mismatching but being wonderful anyway. He thinks they’ll fight, but they’ll still be good together.

He steals glances of Tim, sitting by his computer, typing furiously. Tim’s eyebrows are knitted together in concentration. Tony wonders what it would be like to be under that level of scrutiny from Tim; to be studied in such minute detail.

The day passes this way, and by the time the clock strikes three and they still haven’t caught a case, Gibbs tells them to take off.

“Seriously, boss?” Tony asks before he can stop himself – he does know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he hasn’t learned to self-censor all that well yet.

Ziva and Tim both send him glares.

“Do I look like I’m not being serious?” Gibbs asks.

Tony isn’t sure what he’ll do at home – other than grab a bite to eat, because he’s starving – but if all else fails, his bed is calling for him. The usual need to catch up on sleep after a tough case is even worse this time, because of the added stress of hanging of a garage wall.

“Want a ride home?” Tim asks, standing beside Tony suddenly.

He looks slightly nervous.

Tony suddenly recalls that he has no car at NCIS today. He is slightly annoyed by the fact, but it’s quickly quelled by Tim’s offer; Tony will get to spend more alone-time with Tim.

“Yeah, sure, Probie. You got me here, you get to get me home.”

Tim nods, and after bidding goodbye to Ziva and Gibbs – the latter grunting a reply – they head towards the elevators.

Tony has no idea what to say or do. Tim fidgets as he usually does, his body language showing Tony with unwanted clarity how uncomfortable he is. He would probably much rather spend his time with Abby, rather than playing chauffeur to Tony.

A sudden need to be alone, to be away from Tim and everything he can’t have, strikes him.

“You know—I can take a cab,” he says. “I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

“Uh, not really,” Tim says. “It’s no problem.”

“Well, I’m sure you’d prefer Abby’s company over mine,” Tony says as the doors to the garage slide open. He heads out, long strides taking him quickly away from Tim.

He hears Tim jog up to him. “I said I’d take you home. It’s no problem.”

He speaks rather slowly, as though Tony is a child having a hard time understanding. He grabs Tony’s arm, the touch strong and warm even through the jacket Tony’s wearing. He wonders what it’d be like to be embraced by those arms. As quickly as the thought is introduced, it is pushed away; he’s not supposed to have such thoughts.

“Look, I’d like to be alone,” he says, too quietly for it to be within the personality he’s supposed to show Tim. He’s tired – exhausted even, and he needs to leave before he says something he’ll regret.

Tim still holds onto his arm, fingers lingering hesitantly. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Tony nods, and meets Tim’s gaze. He seems to have done this on more occasions in the last two days than he has in the last few months. It doesn’t mean he can understand what he sees there, though – he thinks there’s concern and compassion, but he can’t be certain.

“Call me if you need anything,” Tim says, echoing the offer he made the night before.

Tony nods shortly, not trusting his own voice at this point. He might blurt out something hugely embarrassing if he tries to talk; he can’t risk it.

Tim’s hand drops to his side. “Have a good night, Tony.”

And then he turns, heads to his car, and before Tony has made another move, the engine starts and then Tim is gone. Tony stares at the exit where Tim disappeared, long after the car is out of sight. He pretends it’s the way he wants it to be.

He’s really good at pretending.

 


	6. Abby & Tony

Abby has placed the roses she received from Gibbs on the living room table. They fit very well with the dark walls and heavy drapes, and the candles give them a lovely, golden edge amidst all the darkness. Looking at the flowers makes her smile, because although she never really doubted it, it’s another sign that Gibbs does still love her. She’s still special.

The doorbell sounds, and she wonders who it might be; it’s late Friday night and she’s not expecting anyone.

“Timmy,” she says when she opens the door to find him standing outside. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“I just—need to talk,” Tim says. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she says, holding the door open. As he enters, she assesses him – his hair looks as though it was once neatly fixed but has now been run through by a hand enough times to leave it a mess, and he’s dressed in clothes – a t-shirt and comfy pants – that suggest he wasn’t planning on leaving his apartment.

She takes a seat on her couch and motions for him to do the same, but he stays standing, pacing back and forth.

“I don’t know what to do about Tony,” he says.

Abby’s eyebrows rise. If Tim’s here at this late hour – it’s an hour until midnight – to talk about Tony, then his crush is even more serious than she first expected.

“What happened?” she asks, hungry for details. She can’t help it; the thought of Tony finding love in someone as steady, trustworthy and absolutely adorable as Tim is wonderful, and Tim needs someone forceful and full of energy as Tony.

“Nothing!” Tim says, frustration reeking from him. “I told him I’d take him home – because he came in with me this morning, since I went there—”

“You went there this morning?”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Apparently, I just missed you. I, uh, bought coffee for him.”

“That’s so sweet,” Abby says, smiling widely at the thought. Tim must have been nervous and stammering, thinking a million times over what a bad idea it must be to go to Tony’s home in the early morning.

Tim shrugs. “I don’t know about that. But we drove to work together, so this afternoon when we were going home, I figured I’d drive him home.”

“Get a little one-on-one time with Mr. Anthony,” Abby says, grinning at him. “I like your plan.”

“Well, it didn’t work,” Tim says. “I must have done something to freak him out. He said he needed to be alone. God, what if he’s figured it out? What if he knows I’m—and he thinks it’s gross?”

Tim looks heartbroken at the thought, like a sad puppy. Abby feels instantly bad for him, even though she’s fairly certain that Tony’s professed need to be alone has nothing to do with him figuring out that Tim’s in love with him.

She stands up, and hugs him. “I’m sure that’s not it.”

“What else could it be?” Tim asks, wrapping his arms around her. She always feels safe in his embrace, even now, long after their relationship has ended. She wonders if Tony will feel the same way in Tim’s arms, if the two ever admit their feelings to each other.

“You should talk to him,” Abby says gently.

“He thinks I’m gross,” he says. “He doesn’t even want to ride in the car with me.”

“Did he say that?”

Tim shakes his head, looking unhappy anyway.

“Then like I said, I’m sure that’s not it,” she says.

He looks like a petulant child. “I’m no good with words. I’m really, really bad with words.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Abby says. She’s fairly certain he will, although she only barely holds back a wince at how the conversation is likely to go until Tim actually spits out what it is he wants to say. “Just say it.”

“And if he is grossed out?” Tim asks.

“He’s not a homophobe,” Abby says, pursing her lips at him. Tony voices loud opinions about a lot of things, but she has can’t recall having ever heard him speak ill of gays. There was the incident with Voss, but that was a whole other situation, and Tony’s adverse reaction to having kissed him/her had very little to do with the fact that she was a man, and everything to do with the fact that he/she had gutted a coworker – he has told her as much, on a drunk night out.

“You really want me to risk my job for this?” Tim asks, looking down at her.

She pulls back, out of their embrace, and gives him a serious look. “No, not your job. I want you to risk your _heart_.”

He makes a face. “No pain, no gain.”

“Exactly.”

He sighs, shoulders slumping briefly. “Well, if I don’t get to work on Monday, you’ll know why.”

“Because you’re in bed with Tony?” Abby says, waggling her eyebrows suggestively at him.

He gives her an exasperated look. “No, because it turns out that Tony does think I’m gross after all, and has murdered me and dismembered me and spread my body parts in four different states.”

Abby giggles. “Now you’re being very silly. He wouldn’t do that. Way too much work – he’d just bury you in his backyard.”

“He doesn’t have a backyard,” Tim says, but he does smile slightly.

Abby shrugs, glad she’s able to make him happy. “Fine, then he’ll dump your body in the Potomac.”

“I’m glad you’re taking this so lightly,” he says.

They look at each other. They don’t need words these days to understand each other – they communicate with the ease of two people who were once in love, and once that flame died out, became the best of friends. She can’t imagine a better best friend than him – even though he is, despite all the MIT-smartness, slightly dim sometimes.

“Risk your heart,” she says. “Kiss him.”

He looks shocked at the suggestion, much more so than he did at her earlier suggestion of the two together in bed, perhaps because this is a risky action completely by his initiation if it is to happen.

He finally schools his face into a determined expression, and he nods. He kisses her cheek.

“Thanks, Abs.”

She smiles. “Anytime.”

  
  


He has tried watching a movie, but even the classic Bond movies hold no interest to him at the moment. The popcorn sits in the bowl on the living room table, untouched, just like the bottle of soda next to it.

He feels empty.

Tony flashes back to the night before; it’s now over twenty-four hours since his last near death experience. He wonders how many more he has before the Grim Reaper will finally come and grab him – and he wonders if a part of him is waiting for it.

He loves his job, he thinks, but even a job as wonderful as the one at NCIS can’t be his sole reason to exist. He has great colleagues and a great boss – but he doubts they think he’s all that fabulous.

Tony knows they always tease each other. Still, the day’s teasing has left him longing for a kind word from Gibbs, or an appreciative smile from Ziva, or – perhaps most of all – any kind of token from Tim. Abby’s rose sits on the kitchen counter, a sign of her pity for him, rather than her appreciation. He didn’t solve the case – she did. Everything he does, the others can do better.

He heads into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of brandy out of his booze cupboard. He doesn’t drink often, at least not when he’s home alone, but he has a good selection of alcohol for the occasions when he does want to drink.

He pours himself a generous amount, swallows it down – it feels hot down his throat and lands heavily in his stomach – and pours another glass.

Tony returns to the living room and he thinks that it looks awfully pathetic. The TV flickers soundlessly, the movie still on but not nearly interesting enough for him to watch. It sheds an eerie glow over the room.

He’s startled by a knock on the door. He frowns; it can’t be one of his neighbors coming to complain about the noise from his surround system – for once, his apartment is silent.

His heart nearly stops when he opens the door to find Tim standing outside, looking very nervous for some inexplicable reason. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, and Tony wonders briefly if Tim is sick.

“Probster,” Tony says. “What can I do for you?”

He has already schooled his expression into one that hopefully isn’t as emptily despairing as the one he must have worn just a few seconds ago.

“Uh—I—uh,” Tim says ineloquently, licking his lips and looking for all the world like he doesn’t want to be there. And then, very fast, he says, “Can I come in?”

Tony shrugs and hopes it looks like he doesn’t care either way; in reality, his heart is beating hard enough that he thinks Tim should be able to hear it.

They stand in the small hallway, Tony with his glass of brandy in his hand and Tim shifting his weight fretfully from one side to the other. He hangs his coat on the hanger, and Tony sees that he’s wearing a white t-shirt and pants that he’s never worn to work; they are loose and there’s a hole just below the left knee.

“So—” Tony says, attempting the nonchalant approach. “You decided to stop by at midnight because—”

“I wanted—uh—I wanted to see you,” Tim says.

Tony’s eyebrows rise.

“You, uh—” Tim says, appearing to have an unusually hard time to get the words out, even for him. “You didn’t seem—ah, happy, this afternoon.”

Tony wonders where Tim’s going. Visiting at midnight could either be a very good thing – which Tony doubts, because good things rarely happen to him – or a very bad thing. What has Tim figured out?

“I’m fine and dandy now,” Tony says, faking an overly chipper tone. “Got a movie and popcorn and everything.”

There’s no need to tell Tim that the popcorn were made three hours ago and are still un-eaten.

“Oh,” says Tim.

They stand in silence, Tim looking wide-eyed and almost scared. He fidgets, meeting Tony’s gaze for a second at a time and then looking away, studying the floor and the ceiling and the walls, until he dares look at Tony again.

Tony is about to ask what Tim’s doing there again, when Tim suddenly moves, and Tony finds himself pinned against the wall, Tim’s body pressed against him – and the press of warm, soft lips against his own.

Tony’s brain fails completely at the sudden turn of events. He stands limply, pressed against the wall, and he doesn’t even have the presence of mind to close his eyes and respond to the kiss, even though this is something he’s dreamed of for months and maybe even years. Tim’s lips are full and hot, simply pressed to his.

Tim pulls back, and they both gasp, simultaneously, for breath. Tim’s eyes are wide and fearful still, and he looks at Tony as though he thinks Tony will beat the crap out of him. Tony still feels dazed enough that he doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak – and then, before he has had time to recuperate from the shock, Tim backpedals to the door, rips it open, and runs.

 


	7. Tim

Tim’s mind is reeling with the instruction Abby left him with. _Kiss Tony. Kiss. Tony_. He can’t even begin to wrap his mind around the consequences of such an action, be they good or bad – and the latter is, unfortunately, far more likely than the former.

His heart beats wildly as he drives his car from Abby’s home. He’s probably a real danger on the roads, but luckily, there’s little traffic out. Only one car honks angrily at him for not paying attention to where he’s going.

His hands are shaking badly enough for him to have some trouble locking his car after parking it on Tony’s street. He feels feverish with nervousness, bouts of hot and cold passing through him. It gets even worse as he heads up the stairs to the second floor, each step heavier than the previous. He wants to run screaming in the other direction – yet something forces him to keep going, perhaps Abby’s words about finally risking his heart.

No pain, no gain.

The likelihood of pain is overwhelming in this case.

He knocks raptly on Tony’s door, before he loses his nerve. He swallows as he waits for it to open; it takes a few seconds, but then there are steps and the door is unlocked and opened.

Tony doesn’t look like himself. He is clean and neat, his hair combed back and his clothes far better fitting most of the stuff Tim owns even now that he can afford expensive suits, but there is a haunted look in his eyes. The shadows beneath his eyes get even more pronounced in the harsh yellow light of the corridor. Tony’s apartment appears dark.

“Probster,” Tony says. “What can I do for you?”

Tony’s expression changes; Tim can’t say if it’s for the better. It seems like a mask, to hide whatever Tony’s really feeling.

He doesn’t know what to answer. “Uh—I—uh—can I come in?”

He wonders if Tony thinks he’s a stalker now – it’s midnight, and Tim is at Tony’s apartment for a second time in a single day, despite never having been there at all twenty-four hours ago. His heart is still beating a mile a minute.

Tony shrugs, and moves aside. Tim enters, and closes the door behind him. He hangs up his coat, and then tries his best to come up with something to say. He fails, and instead, Tony speaks.

“So—” he says. “You decided to stop by at midnight because—”

He leaves the sentence hanging, and Tim knows that Tony does think it’s weird that he’s there. He regrets coming, but now that he’s there, he decides to see it through. He needs to risk his heart to gain anything of worth – and Tony is certainly worth it, if there’s even the slightest chance.

“I wanted—uh,” Tim says, wondering what it is he wanted when he came. “I wanted to see you.”

Tony looks slightly surprised at this, but he quickly schools his face back into a mask of indifference. Tim wonders why; he’d like to see the real Tony.

When Tony doesn’t answer, Tim says, “You, uh, you didn’t seem—ah, happy, this afternoon.”

Tony shrugs. “I’m fine and dandy now. Got a movie and popcorn and everything.”

The apartment does smell of popcorn – perhaps Tim’s just disturbing Tony in a movie marathon of some kind. Perhaps he’s completely unwanted. Perhaps Tony is really fine, despite that look in his eyes.

“Oh,” he says.

He doesn’t know what to say, or do, or even where to look. Tony appears calm and a bit questioning still as to why Tim’s there, and Tim can’t calm himself enough to even pretend to be relaxed. Abby’s words are echoing back and forth in his mind – kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. And Tony’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, just for a millisecond, and it’s all that Tim needs to actually do what his body wants.

He moves fast, and hopes that Tony won’t hit him. He places his hands on each side of Tony’s face, and presses his lips gently against Tony’s before he can chicken out.

It feels wonderful. Tony’s lips taste of alcohol – he’s holding a glass in hand, so that’s not odd – and a bit of salt, and a taste that’s just Tony. His lips are soft and full beneath Tim’s, warm and perfect.

But then Tim realizes that Tony is standing limply; he’s not responding at all. There’s not even a hint of a reaction.

Realizing that Tony most certainly can’t want this if he doesn’t react, Tim pulls back. He gasps for breath, not realizing he ever held it, and fear runs through him as he looks at Tony. Tony must hate him now, must think him disgusting—

The urge to flee overcomes him, and he turns and runs before he can give his legs the instruction to do so. He almost falls in the hallway outside, stumbling clumsily over his own feet.

He gets to the street, and swears out loud, realizing that his car keys are in his coat, which is hanging in Tony’s apartment.

Suddenly, he’s turned around by a strong hand, and a fist hits him. Tim raises his arms, shielding his face, and he thinks it’s rather likely that Tony will kill him now. He probably should – after this humiliation, Tim is certain he won’t have a job to return to come Monday.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

There are no more punches coming; the single hit spreads pain from his eye and cheek, but no more are raining over him. It’s just Tony’s words, furious and loud.

He opens his eyes, lowering his arms just a little, to see Tony glaring angrily at him.

“I—God, I’m so sorry—I’m—I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? Mean it?” Tony asks.

Tim stays quiet, because he can’t lie and say that it didn’t mean anything. It meant everything. He can still taste Tony’s lips on his own.

“Are you toying with me?”

This makes Tim lower his arms completely, as they go limp in shock. “What?”

“Are you toying with me?” Tony asks again, slower. There’s a break in his voice, a hurt. “Why did you kiss me?”

Tim swallows hard, heart racing. What is Tony asking? Why aren’t more blows coming? Why is there a light in Tony’s eyes that isn’t of disgust or hatred? “I—uh—”

“Why, McGee?” Tony asks, and in the midst of the harshness, Tim hears despair.

“Because I’m in love with you,” Tim says, and it’s said without stammering. He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for cruel, hateful words to rain over him.

But no words come. In fact, nothing at all comes. There is silence and stillness, and Tim opens his eyes hesitantly to find Tony staring at him, his expression wide-eyed and unguarded. There is heavy disbelief radiating from every part of Tony’s body.

“What?” Tony says.

“I’m in love with you,” Tim says again, quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Why?” Tony asks, still staring. He looks beautiful, Tim thinks, his hair blown into a disarray of shiny locks by the wind, and his face so open and vulnerable for once.

“Why what?” Tim asks.

“Why are you in love with me?”

Tim frowns at the question. He hasn’t thought much about it – not in terms of finding a reason why. But just looking at Tony now, he can come up with a thousand reasons to love Tony – the brilliance, the goofiness, the beauty, the protectiveness he shows those he loves—

But he doesn’t say any of it.

“Are you—okay with it?” he asks instead, deciding that before he pours his heart out, he should know that it’s not just so that Tony can feed the gossip mill for months to come.

Tony gives the slightest of nods, wide eyes steadily on Tim.

Tim slumps down, the adrenaline that has been pumping through his body since he first left his own apartment to go to Abby and ask what he should do, finally leaving his body at the admission. He still doesn’t know what Tony will do, but the fact that he’s watching Tim the way he is, and listening to him the way he does—it seems to bode well.

Tim looks at the street as he speaks. “You’re intelligent.”

“Not like you,” he hears Tony mutter to the ground.

Tim frowns at this. He says, “You asked me, and I’m answering. So shut up and listen. And you are intelligent. And beautiful.” Saying the words empowers him; his voice grows stronger as he continues. “You see things that the rest of us miss. You’re headstrong, you can handle yourself, and at the same time, you can be silly and annoying and make me want to strangle you.”

He takes a step towards Tony, who says, “That doesn’t sound like a very good reason to—you know.”

Tim shrugs. “I need silliness. I get way to boring in all my geekiness otherwise.” He takes another step closer, and they’re suddenly just a foot apart. “You’re creative. Fun. And even though life hasn’t always been all that fair to you, you love with all your heart.”

Tony is staring him, mouth hanging open, but when Tim trails off, he snorts and looks away. “I’m pretty sure you have me confused with some other sap, ‘cause that doesn’t sound like me at all.”

Tim smiles, trying to appear calmer than he feels. He takes another step forward, and they are touching each other, Tim’s hands on either side of Tony’s face.

This time, he descends slower, and Tony is prepared for it. They lean into each other, lips meeting in the middle. They both let their eyes fall shut, and when Tim hesitantly pulls Tony into a deeper kiss, Tony responds in kind by flicking his tongue out.

The kiss leaves them both breathless, and when they pull apart, they are both breathing hard.

“So, are you—you know?” Tim asks. “With me?”

Tony hesitates before giving a small nod. “Yeah.”

Tim’s heart leaps with joy, and a goofy grin spreads over his face. That, however, makes him wince, as the punch Tony threw earlier makes itself known – his eye is throbbing.

“We should probably get some ice on that,” Tony says, wincing at the sight. “Although you’ll probably be pretty in purple tomorrow either way.”

“You really had to punch me?” Tim mutters.

There’s a sheepish smile on Tony’s face that makes up for the pain of the punch. It’s the first real smile Tim has seen on Tony in days; it reaches his eyes and lights them up, even though it’s with some shame in this case.

“I was—confused,” Tony says.

“Well, you might have a shot at the insanity plea, that’s for sure,” Tim says.

“So do you,” Tony says. “You kissed me. In the hallway. Just like that.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Uh, blame Abby.”

They start walking back to the apartment.

“Abby?” Tony asks, eyebrows rising. “She knows?”

“She knows,” Tim confirms.

“Of course she does.”

They go up the stairs and back into the apartment. Tim’s coat is still hanging on the hanger. Removing his shoes, Tim follows Tony into the apartment. Seeing the full bowl of popcorn, he raises an eyebrow at Tony, who shrugs.

The shrug, which seems a bit forlorn, prompts Tim to pull Tony into a hug.

“You know, I’m not all that into hugs,” Tony mutters.

“Deal with it,” Tim says.

“I’m stronger than you.”

“And yet you’re still here,” Tim says, and it’s true – Tony is still standing in the embrace, his arms sneaking around Tim’s waist. Tony leans his head on Tim’s shoulder, and it feels as though it’s where Tony was always supposed to be – he fits so well.

“Gibbs isn’t going to like this,” Tony says softly. “Rule number twelve and all.”

“If we fail to deal with him, I’m sure Abby can do it,” Tim says.

“So she’s all for this?” Tony asks.

“She’s our number one fan, apparently. She told me to come here and kiss you,” Tim says. “She, uh, expects us to call in sick on Monday because we’re busy in bed.”

Tony grins. “That can be arranged.”

This time, Tony initiates the kiss, and it feels just right – like this was what was supposed to happen all along.

 


End file.
